I'd love to be part of the poetry scene
as long as I can take that to mean
goblets of adjectives
fizzing with nouns
quaffed in a hall full
of poetical sounds.

Sadly I fear it would more likely be
I. Alone. Solo.
With a nice cup of tea.

Even the pipilikas maybe
kept an ear to the ground
and heard the men on earth’s
news of the year: it works!
Pfizer-BioNTech jab is out.

Finally the Covid-19
vaccine is on our hand
life hopefully will soon be normal!

Along with everyone else me too
is absolutely over the moon
yet something I can’t forget.
Like how that came months ago
on 27 Ramadan 2020 in London.
I was still in sleep in the morning
in a dream but turned out to be real
indeed touched by lovely safest hands
promptly vaccinated me there and then.

Know not how that could key out
off the safe the trillion dollar vaccine at first!
All I know when that hands of love tie a knot
it becomes the undoable perfect circle.

Sullen leaves forlorn now at the edges -
dripping tips say the story of the night:
the thunder - is all over the road, scattered
in the branches fallen; it is the mud and slush
that tell how the sky wept in the hour;
Eyes still moist and still welling up -  
must be a field abounding in blades
of tall them leaves of grass flowering, and
the rain drenching the soul; Now the sky
invisible behind the veil of tear-clouds;
The mind longs for the warmth of home
heart longs to stay there half-sunk knee-high.
Only one night that matters in the journey:
life but a gathering of memories plucked
from the fleeting world; Only one night
when fireworks light the sky and a lonely
heart beats as one with another, though apart
distant in the milling Guy Fawkes' night

After I left, on my first night
Prompted my journal, describe your now past life
Perhaps, things like:
The telephone boxes,
                     The theatre, the foxes,
                                            Ben, Battersea or the eye.
At worst, at best, simple a request
But against my behest,
I Immediately flustered
As only memory my mind mustered:
                  That feeling felt when I caught your eye
              
              And I just wasn’t ready to ask myself why
                 
I wasn’t able to say         
                                                                ­       goodbye.

I guess what often said is true,
Like what last heard to me from you:
                     You run from things you cannot deny.

i want to travel the world one color at a time

...see the color of the first sunrise
...sip black tea on London rain
...linger at the heart of the Big Apple
...gaze at the pink skies of California
...cliff dive into the Aegean blue sea
...marvel at the green grass of the African safari
...get lost in the land with the whitest snow
...witness the sunset in Rio
...travel in space and walk the gray surface of the moon

but i’d rather pull all the shades and wander the great indoors
where the color of comfort is...

my unmade bed

beginning:

playing football
in the communal
playground
pitched between
mountains of concrete
brown brick office blocks
blockaded high street shops
council housing kingdoms.

memory;

taking potshots at metal
goalposts slicked with
the rain and scabbed spray paint
till the olders kick us aside
basketballs in hand
for freethrows from the poverty line.

unlearning;

to think
love like marble
too cold and rich to touch
in fear that it’d turn out to be *****
like two boys
looking at each other for too long
can leave stains no amount of febreze can air out.

end;

i still can’t sleep in your arms
but you never stop searching for me
in yours
all there is left to do
is let
myself be found.

Time travel, baby,
Set me free,
Time travel got a hook in me,
Time travel, baby,
Set me free,
Time travel got a hook in me,

In disguise as a young man in the city,
But the bright young life
No longer belongs to me,
I ain’t no London dude,
I'm just a carbon copy,
Doing some travelling,

Time travel, baby
Set me free,
Time travel got a hook in me,
Time travel, baby,
Set me free,
Time travel got a hook in me,

Seeing places that I knew in ’77,
When I was young
And in love with London town,
Please don’t ask me
Where those fleeting years have flown to,
They’ve just gone travelling,

Time travel, baby,
Set me free,
Time travel got a hook in me,
Time travel, baby,
Set me free,
Time travel got a hook in me,

In disguise as a young man in the city,
But the bright young life
No longer belongs to me,
I’m a visitor
From a distant generation
Doing some travelling,

Time travel, baby,
Set me free,
Time travel got a hook in me,
Time travel, baby,
Set me free,
Time travel got a hook in me.

--
There are so many words to describe me,
none of them is B.A.M.E.
I've got a foreign name, exotic.
Try to read it before you modify it.

How long have I lived in the UK because
my English is so good, where did I learn it?
My accent is American, it's confusing.
or my accent is too Filipino, quite embarrassing.
How can we come from so far
and be so fluent-- so bizzarre.

My rice cooker is an enigma,
more so the amount of rice I eat, huh?
My spoon and fork don't make any sense to you
But your table knife achieves nothing for me, too.

Why do we dye our perfect black hair?
why do we want our skin to be fair--
why don't we just embrace our God-given tan?
Your president seems like a smart man
Fighting your country's drug war like no one else can
Lastly, "are you a Manny Pacquiao fan?"

It's quite difficult to be a P.O.C.
in a world that doesn't understand our P.O.V.
Why we've immigrated and not always assimilated
Why we've flown thousand of miles away from home
Only to stick with our own
but sometimes there is just some comfort
in not having to explain the way we are
or who we are
and why we are
the persons we are
without having to feel subpar.